


In my dreams I'm Christmasing with you

by heathtrash



Series: Merry Christmas, Darling (mumbroom ficlets) [1]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Baking, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash
Summary: Mildred Hubble is away at her friend Maud's for the week, so Julie has invited Hecate Hardbroom over to help decorate their first Christmas tree together.
Relationships: Hardbroom/Julie Hubble
Series: Merry Christmas, Darling (mumbroom ficlets) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587220
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49
Collections: The Worst Witch Winter Warmers 2019





	In my dreams I'm Christmasing with you

Hecate peered in the mirror at her own reflection. She, Hecate Hardbroom, was nervous. 

She carefully drew her finger across her lips, and a deep ruby red tone appeared across them, effortlessly accentuating her cupid’s bow. She had chosen a black blouse today to wear with a flowing ankle-length black skirt—a little less _witchy_ , as Julie would say, so Hecate’s presence would not attract any undue attention from the neighbours. Mrs Patel across the hall had already been intrigued by Julie’s ‘goth girlfriend’ when she had caught a glimpse of Hecate and Julie walking arm in arm out on their last date, when Hecate had opted to wear a beaded robe that she had thought the _least witchiest_ of her formal clothes. Julie had felt the need to change out of her jeans and flowery cardigan just so Hecate would not look quite as ludicrously overdressed to go to the local Thai restaurant. Julie’s advice to “go with something casual, like you’d wear when you’re at home,” had been eminently unhelpful, since Hecate prized herself on her ability to look decorous at all times—and her home was Cackle’s, where she had to maintain an appropriate level of formality. Appearing _casual_ in front of the students would expose her to a level of ridicule that Hecate was entirely opposed to.

Hecate twitched a finger to magically brush off any imaginary lint or loose hairs from her clothing and straightened her back—if it were possible, even further—watching herself in the mirror with an analytical eye. Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she was feeling self-conscious about the lines on her face and the severity of her hair. Julie always looked so youthful, whereas since they had started—she hesitated to use the word ‘dating’, which felt so _tawdry_ — _visiting each other in a non-platonic capacity_ —that she felt that she looked like a stately, prudish schoolmarm. That did accurately describe what she was, but with Julie she wanted to be—well, pleasing to look upon. Perhaps she ought to do something different with her hair? —No, this was idle vanity in which she ought not to indulge.

After exactly seventeen more minutes of fussing over her presentation, cursing her vanity, Hecate transferred herself to Julie’s block of flats, just outside her door. There was a brief moment where she realised she could back out of this—that she could invent a school emergency—a task Ada had set her—but she knew that Julie Hubble _wanted_ to see her and had planned this ever since she had heard that Mildred was staying with her friend Maud’s family that week before Christmas.

Her knock echoed through the hallways—or so it felt to Hecate’s nervous stomach. There was a brief pause before the door swung inwards and Julie’s face appeared in the gap.

“Miss Hardbroom— I mean,” Julie blushed and put her hands up to her face to hide her suddenly red cheeks. “Oh, I’m so silly— force of habit—”

Julie turning into a bundle of nerves was both endearing and helped to quell the anxiety knocking against her own ribcage. Thankfully, Hecate had a much stronger grasp on her dignity.

“Ms Hubble,” Hecate greeted her with an amused smirk. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“That’s a lovely lipstick shade. What brand do you use?” At Hecate’s puzzled look, she began to babble, “do witches even have brands? Where do you get your makeup from, anyway? Don’t tell me you brew them up in your cauldrons at midnight on a full moon and—”

“—It is a spell,” Hecate said, a mite of self-consciousness bringing a blush to her cheeks. What had she been saying about dignity?

“You cast a spell to make yourself look even more gorgeous—for me?” Julie said, biting her lower lip and smiling.

“Well— I—” Hecate sputtered. “The aim was to look appropriate.”

“Come here. I’ll give you appropriate,” Julie laughed, went up on her tiptoes, and put her arms around Hecate’s neck. Hecate realised what she wanted, and bent down to grant her a single kiss, tasting just a hint of something sweet on her lips that could only mean that Julie had been baking.

“You big marshmallow,” Julie said, stroking Hecate’s cheek. 

Hecate closed her hand over Julie’s and brought it to her lips so she could kiss it, causing a little sigh from Julie. 

Julie shook herself to clear her head, causing those angelic golden curls to shiver in the most distracting way. “Come on, I’ve got something for you.”

Hecate felt her cold hand being enveloped in Julie’s, as she led her by the hand into her living room. A small tower of boxes was sitting on the coffee table, which was normally cluttered with art supplies but had evidently been cleared to make way for all the Christmas decorations. 

“Sit down, and I’ll just go and get it.”

Hecate sat gingerly on the edge of Julie’s very soft sofa. She had made the mistake before of sitting on it properly and had had some difficulty extricating herself from it.

Julie reappeared, holding something sneakily behind her back. She pushed the something she was hiding into Hecate’s hands hurriedly, excitement written all over her face.

“What’s— this?” Hecate pressed her fingers into a bright red knitted jumper. It had a large animal’s face upon it. The animal’s nose was also red and protruded from the garment.

“Christmas jumper,” Julie grinned. “You’ve got to wear one while decorating the tree. It’s a Hubble tradition. This is one of mine, but you’ve got to wear it today.”

Hecate felt her expression freeze into one of horror and incredulity.

“If you don’t, I’ll tell Millie you gussied yourself up with a bit of abracadabra just to see me,” Julie said in a mock-serious voice, raising her eyebrows playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Hecate whispered.

“I would. Go on, put it on and I’ll get you a nice cup of tea. You like a good builder’s brew, don’t you?” Julie winked.

Hecate scowled for effect, but she knew that Julie was teasing her. Builder’s tea—horrendously overbrewed, with milk and sugar—was precisely the opposite of what she enjoyed about a good cup of tea. She sighed, and looked at the jumper with dread. Red was not her colour of choice in a garment—particularly not one as overwhelmingly red as this. For fear of dislodging her high bun, she transferred it directly onto herself, despairing at the red nose of the creature protruding from her stomach.

“I made sure to get in some more of that darjeeling you liked,” Julie said as she came over to the sofa armed with two mugs of tea a few minutes later, quite the picture of—a sensation stirred in Hecate’s heart—homeliness. As she approached, she broke into a smile at the sight of Hecate in her Christmas jumper. “Oh if only you had the view I’ve got! You look so adorable, Hecate.”

Hecate felt her cheeks warm to the same colour as the jumper.

The mug Julie set down for her on a coaster, on a corner of the coffee table not occupied by Christmas decorations, was not one of her vulgar ones with irritating slogans; it was a white stoneware mug with a brown handle and rim, and an illustration of pink wood sorrel that resembled the style of wild flora manuals. It was surprisingly tasteful.

Julie’s own mug, which she put down beside it on a coaster that Hecate found for her, was one emblazoned with “#1 Mum” and an image printed on it that could only be a young Mildred Hubble’s attempt at a portrait of them both. Hecate could only tell it was Mildred by the plaits, which were inexplicably defying gravity. Julie liked her tea milky but not sweet—so she could enjoy the sweetness of a biscuit alongside it.

“Thank you,” Hecate said, feeling a little glow as she sipped at the scalding tea. It was still far too hot to drink, but it was purely for politeness’ sake. Perhaps it was the synthetic blend bright red jumper, but she felt quite warm perched on the sofa with Julie tucked in next to her. “Is there any particular order in which you normally best this mountain of boxes?” Hecate shifted slightly where she sat in anticipation of the upcoming decorating.

“Wait a minute—” Julie fiddled with her mobile telephone and a tinny wailing sound started to emit from it. “No, wait, that’s not right—”

Hecate blinked in confusion as suddenly the sound seemed to be projected from elsewhere, and a—begrudgingly recognisable—tune chimed out with a festive jingle bell beat. She had heard some of the girls singing such a song in the corridors—the influence of Ordinary Christmas penetrated even the hallowed halls of Cackle’s Academy.

“Finally got the bluetooth the work,” Julie grinned, wiggling her hips along to the energetic music. “It’s all a part of the tradition to have the Christmas tunes on while we put up the decorations. You don’t mind, do you?”

“If this is the authentic Hubble experience at Yuletide, then I am not opposed to it,” Hecate said stiffly, wondering what on earth a _blue tooth_ was as she restrained the urge to cast a Selective Hearing spell, but the sight of Julie dancing was admittedly quite charming. 

“So usually I do the garlands and such first, because it’s my least favourite part,” Julie replied, standing and opening one of the shoeboxes to reveal several shiny foil stacks in plastic bags, putting her hands on her hips. “It’s all climbing on chairs and I’ve not really a head for heights. I do it for Millie though.”

“Perhaps with a little magic, that will not be necessary,” Hecate said, feeling awkwardly forward even as the words came out of her mouth. She twirled a single finger and coaxed out a concertina of metallic foil, expanding upwards into a red and gold garland. Some of the lattices of foil had been repaired with sellotape. “Where would you like it?”

Julie’s eyes widened in delight. “Let me just put a bit of tape at the end—” Julie snipped off a length of tape and attached it to the mess of tape already at the raised end of the garland from about of decade of Christmasses past. “Just put it on the picture rail there where it’ll stick to the glossy paint—”

The garland wafted over to the picture rail and adhered itself precisely into the corner, dangling over a bookcase crammed with paperback novels and plastic cases that were a mystery to Hecate, in front of which were many small picture frames containing photographs of a tiny Mildred Hubble.

“The other end goes on the light fixture, like— diagonally out from the corner,” Julie directed hesitantly, and Hecate obliged. The garland looked as if it were stretched to its absolute limit, close to tearing at the taped sections. “This is so much easier the magical way! You’re absolutely fantastic.” Julie tiptoed and kissed Hecate’s cheek.

“Merely a basic hover charm,” Hecate stated, trying not to look too flattered.

They completed the entire process of decking the room in shining garlands without injury to themselves or the garlands.

“Other years this takes me the best part of an hour trying to get them all lined up! I’ve never managed to get it looking so neat,” Julie said, looking up at the ceiling in amazement.

Next was the tree. Hecate was shocked when Julie untaped a cardboard box to reveal a mess of dark green foliage in detached sections.

“It’s plastic,” Hecate commented, fingering one of the artificial pine branches with a look of distaste on her lips.

“It wouldn’t be alive if it was real and I left it in the box all year,” Julie retorted with a gentle elbow to Hecate’s side. “Real ones can cost quite a bit of money, and it works out cheaper in the long run if you can get a nice-looking artificial tree. And once it’s all decorated you really can’t tell it’s not real.”

For the sake of diplomacy, Hecate refrained from giving her opinion.

“Right, I’ll get the base sorted—see if you can figure out which is the bottom bit,” Julie said, “it should be the biggest, widest one.”

Hecate dug through the scratchy foliage until she found the largest of the three tiers. Some of the branches flopped down on their hinges as she lifted it out, which was incredibly baffling. Julie helped her guide the “trunk” into the base.

“We’ll go in layers and fluff out each branch so they aren’t all bunched together and stiff,” Julie said, kneeling on the other side of the tree base.

Following Julie’s lead, Hecate set about bending the branches into a more natural shape. Being crushed into their cardboard box year after year had done nothing for the already slightly sorry-looking fronds. Usually Hecate was the one giving orders, not obeying another’s direction, but in Julie’s flat, and with an activity in which she was woefully underqualified, she deferred to Julie’s guidance. Although it would have been easier to accomplish by magic, after some time Hecate found some moment of relaxation in separating the branches from each other, even if the pine needles were thin, flat pieces of plastic that in no one’s imagination could resemble a realistic tree.

The second tier went on, and then the third—Julie caught Hecate’s eye through the branches and flashed her a smile that tightened her stomach with the overwhelming sensation that _maybe this wonderful woman does in fact think the world of you, and perhaps— perhaps you are deserving of that affection_.

“Your side is different to mine,” Hecate commented when they stood back to check it. Julie’s was somewhat perkier, whereas her branches stuck out straight and cheerlessly.

“Oh that doesn’t matter, love,” Julie said, rubbing Hecate’s arm. “It just makes it different this year. Let’s see about untangling the fairy lights.”

Julie peeled an ageing elastic band from another shoebox. “Every year I tell myself I’ll put them away nicely so I won’t have the hassle of fiddling with them for an hour before I even get them on the tree, and every year I never end up doing it.”

Hecate peered into the bundle of wires and bulbs. “Is it a Hubble tradition to spend an hour disentangling them?”

“Not one I’m fond of,” Julie groaned, picking out the end, which had a heavy black box on it.

“If you will permit me to assist,” Hecate suggested, extending her long black-nailed fingers towards the mass of fairy lights.

At Julie’s nod, Hecate wove her hands in the air, raising the bundle up from the cardboard box. The bulbs flickered into life, unravelled neatly, and the floating snake of lights began wending its way around the tree. Julie clapped her hands together in delight as it passed before her eyes.

“Ooh, can I put them on properly while you do your magic on them?”

“Of course—the spell will not break if you touch them.”

Julie tentatively reached her hand up to the hovering wire and touched it with curiosity. Her hand plucked a length out of the air; Hecate released her hold gently from that section enough that Julie could control it, but not enough that it would fall if Julie should drop it in surprise.

“Is this what it’s like being in space where everything floats around?” Julie laughed aloud in her wonderment as she let the buoyant length pass through her fingers.

“Having not been to space, I could not tell you.”

Once she had become accustomed to the way that it felt to manipulate floating fairy lights, Julie tucked them into the tree so they were all threaded around the branches and evenly spaced, while Hecate held the tail end aloft. Hecate almost felt her control over the spell waver for a moment as she looked into the blue of Julie’s eyes sparkling with the reflection of the warm white fairy lights.

With the lights all positioned in a way that suited Julie, Hecate dropped the last of the spell and the lights went dark. 

“Oh—I forgot they weren’t even plugged in!” Julie exclaimed, and fiddled with the black box on the end of the wire, attaching the pins to a corresponding set of holes in the wall, and returning the light to them.

“That was much more fun than I’ve ever had putting the lights up, let me tell you,” Julie said, reaching for her mug of tea and taking a drink.

Hecate admired their work so far; the glow of the tree provided quite a bit of illumination in the corner of the room. Julie came over with her mug and put her arm around Hecate.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Julie said, resting her head against Hecate’s upper arm.

“The effect is certainly pleasant,” Hecate responded, with a smile she did nothing to prevent.

“It’ll look even better once it’s all decorated,” Julie said, giving Hecate a little squeeze, before breaking away and putting down her mug to empty a bag of tinsel over the boxes of decorations. “Tinsel first, then the ornaments.”

Julie instinctively picked up a less dishevelled-looking piece of tinsel—red with silver tips—and began draping it between the branches. Hecate stood looking at the various bits of tinsel, in all their different colours and lengths—it was utterly baffling how Julie knew exactly which to choose and where to position it for the best effect.

Julie turned back to Hecate, calling, “could you pass me the gold one? No, the other gold one.” Hecate had first questioningly pointed one of her long fingernails at a thin gold piece of tinsel, and then realised that Julie must have meant the more plush, fuller one.

“I usually like that long green one around the bottom,” Julie said. “Why don’t you put that one on?”

Hecate obeyed quietly, feeling hopelessly out of her depth as she held the tinsel gingerly and tried to replicate what Julie had been doing.

“Stay where you are for a moment,” Julie said to Hecate, who had knelt down, trying to tuck in the end of the green piece in the lower branches.

Hecate remained still as she felt a slight sensation in her hair as Julie stood over her.

“There. Let me get a picture—this is perfect—”

Hecate cast her eyes down instinctively as Julie’s mobile telephone slid from her pocket and turned its dark circular eye onto her.

A moment passed, and then Julie came over to her. “Look, don’t you look lovely?”

Hecate looked reluctantly. The screen brightened on its own as Julie tilted it towards her to show— herself, kneeling by the tree, in a peculiar oversized red jumper that did not fit at all with her skirt, with silver tinsel encircling her bun. Her eyelashes were hooded over her eyes, but an involuntary smile was tugging the corner of her stubborn mouth.

“You look gorgeous,” Julie said, by way of explanation.

Hecate could not find the words to answer this bold statement, and shook her head.

“With that tinsel in your hair you look like an angel.”

“I look ridiculous,” Hecate retorted.

Julie tapped her on the nose. “I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Hardbroom.” She cupped her hand around Hecate’s neck—her thumb brushing gently against her ear—and with gentle pressure brought Hecate’s head down to where she could kiss her. 

The kiss glowed throughout her body like a warmth spell, to the point that Hecate wondered if Julie really were secretly in possession of some secret magical power. Surfacing for air—shivering slightly as their lips parted—Hecate lingered, pressed against Julie’s body and feeling a little light-headed.

With the room still giddy and brighter than usual, Hecate tried to keep her mind quiet as Julie showed her their collection of mismatched decorations—various salt-dough shapes threaded with yarn that Mildred had made in her youth, their creative use of colour partially crumbling sadly into dust—painted wooden figures of children on trains or with toys—Santa Clauses in all forms—Hecate cradled a little robin in her long fingers, its bright beady eyes contrasting with the bedraggled feather stuck to its chest.

“Some of them have seen better days, but I couldn’t throw them out. Our Millie would be so upset if we put her favourite decorations out to pasture.”

Hecate was overwhelmed, sobering rapidly in the aftermath of the kiss. Little Mildred must have had so many memories attached to all of these—and of decorating the tree with her mother. She almost felt guilty for taking Mildred’s family bonding time away—yet Mildred was spending the week before Christmas with Maud Spellbody’s family, and Julie wanted to have all the decorations up ready for her when she finally returned.

In another box were some slightly lumpy crocheted decorations in a celebration of every colour—an elf with a long striped hat with a real jingling bell on the end—a christmas pudding, for some reason with a face.

“Are these the result of Mildred’s endeavours too?” Hecate asked, turning over a fuzzy sphere to discover that it was a highly anatomically incorrect cat, with tiny balls instead of paws, triangular ears, a limply dangling tail, and appealing plastic eyes. It was rather sweet, if not at all like a cat.

“I made those,” Julie admitted, “a couple of years ago in the height of my crochet phase. Mildred had just gone to Cackle’s and I really needed something to—fill up my time.”

Hecate put a hand on Julie’s back gently. It was a simple gesture that did not come naturally to her, but she knew that in that moment Julie rather needed some comfort.

“I have always kept a weather eye on her,” Hecate said soothingly. “She may have rather a knack for trouble, but she is a special child.”

“You know, I feel much more at ease knowing you’re there for her,” Julie said, paused with her fingers in the loop of a star made from silver foil and gold tinsel, which was barely holding together.

“I am awfully fond of her.” Hecate stroked her hand down her back, lingering on the slight bump of her bra strap. The sensation against the pads of her fingers reminded her of Julie’s precious humanity—her fragility. “Not that I permit myself to show favouritism to her in her marks. It would hardly be fair to her or the others.”

“You’re doing wonderfully, love,” Julie replied in a slightly subdued tone.

Hecate leaned down and kissed Julie’s warm, soft cheek. Julie’s eyes wrinkled into a smile that melted Hecate’s heart, before she nestled the foil star in a safe place high up where it could not be damaged.

Hecate watched as Julie picked up a small wooden child with a drum and considered briefly before hanging it on a shorter branch next to a light. She, Hecate Hardbroom, who could teach practically any potion from memory without consulting a textbook or lesson notes was completely flabbergasted by the prospect of deciding which ornament to choose.

“Hecate?”

Hearing her name jostled her out of her reverie. “Hmm?” 

“You’re not putting anything on the tree.”

“I— do not know what I am doing,” Hecate confessed, feeling her hands suddenly grow very hot and ungainly at her sides.

“Oh Hecate, love,” Julie came over and slipped her hand into one of Hecate’s. “There’s very little to it, honestly—just pick up the first one that catches your eye and put it on one of the branches—anywhere you fancy.”

Hecate picked up the spherical cat from the box of Julie’s crocheted decorations, feeling her breath stick in her chest. Julie’s hand squeezed hers, and she led her over to the tree.

“Am I—doing this right?” Hecate blustered, while holding the spherical cat up to a branch. “Should this go here?”

“It can go wherever you want, love,” Julie said, unlinking their hands to let Hecate untwist the thread loop and pass it over the plastic pine needles. “See? You’re a natural.”

Hecate grew in confidence slightly, and with Julie’s guidance, realised that there were a few, mostly intuitive rules to trimming the tree—heavier ornaments and those with longer loops required stronger branches that extended out further—similar-coloured ornaments should be spaced apart—and nothing should be so close that it touches a light.

At last, once they had exhausted almost all of the decorations—and certainly most of the branches of the tree—Julie went to pick up her mug of tea and made a face as she tasted the tea. “Oh, my tea’s gone cold—”

Before she could cross to the kitchen, Hecate swiftly closed the distance between them and cupped her hands around Julie’s where she was holding the mug. She smiled into Julie’s surprised eyes and let her magic flow through Julie’s hands. Once the tea was warm, she withdrew, with bashfulness stiffening her shoulders.

Julie stared at Hecate as steam began to swirl from the surface of the tea, her free hand pressed to her heart. “That was—”

“Just a simple spell,” Hecate finished for her.

“—I was going to say—one of the most romantic moments of my life,” Julie said, pink tinging her cheeks.

Hecate blushed with her. She was certain that Julie was exaggerating, but decided not to contradict her lest she cause offence. “There is only one left,” said Hecate, clearing her throat and indicating an innocent-faced young child with a gold tinsel halo and a dress shaped like a cone.

“I think Millie would mind if we put the angel on the tree without her,” Julie said, sipping her now perfect-temperature tea. 

Hecate looked back at the tree, now replete with an overabundance of ornaments. Julie had been correct—the fact that the tree was artificial really had very little consequence once there were gaudy decorations hanging from quite literally every branch. It had been difficult to find space for all of the endearing yet entirely inelegant collection of Mildred’s and Julie’s crafts—for there was nothing remotely discerning about the way they had plonked the ornaments on, mostly without rhyme or reason—and the way that all were irremediably mismatched and in every shade of the rainbow.

“So what do you think? Not like the fancy ones you see in shopping centres or department stores. But I think if you’ve got a professional designer dressing a Christmas tree then you’ve already gone wrong. For me, Christmas is about family and doing things with the people I lo—”

Julie’s impassioned speech ended abruptly as she realised that she had almost let slip something that she had not quite said aloud before. Julie often called her ‘love’ but she had never said ‘I love you’ explicitly. She cleared her throat, slightly uncharacteristically gruff, and rearranged her face into a smile. “Anyway, can I interest you in a mince pie?”

Hecate wished she had interrupted sooner, before Julie had changed the subject so quickly. All it would have taken was an ‘I love you too’. The moment would surely have been opportune, but it had passed.

Hecate realised Julie was awaiting her answer, and nodded. While Julie had cooked dinner for her a couple of times, she had never made Hecate anything _sweet_ —most likely out of the correct assumption that Hecate had little desire for sweet things.

“I actually tried making them this year instead of just buying them from the shops. Well—the mincemeat was from a jar, but I did make the pastry myself at least,” Julie babbled on her way to the kitchen. Hecate followed in her wake, feeling insecure and wishing she could be holding her hand as some kind of reassurance that Julie _did_ in fact love her in that way. These early moments of a relationship—from her little experience in that field of expertise—could be quite torturous.

“I’m afraid there were some casualties,” Julie said, grimacing and indicating the mince pies stuck in the baking tray, the shortcrust pastry hopelessly crumbled everywhere where she had tried to edge them out with a knife. Atop the ones that had survived the trip to the plate were some clumsy pastry stars. A confusion of warmth bubbled up in Hecate’s heart as she looked at them, and she swallowed.

“Julie—”

“Oh, I know, they’re such a mess,” Julie said, shaking her head and idly picking out a fragment of pastry from where it was stuck in the pan and popping it in her mouth.

“No—” Hecate stammered, her ears burning, “I— I love you.”

Julie’s eyes rose to meet Hecate’s, sparkling in the light from the Christmas tree. The timing was not perfect—it was not one that she had carefully orchestrated or how Hecate had wanted to tell her by any measure. She had previously imagined telling Julie at New Year’s Eve, perhaps beneath the stars on the tallest tower at Cackle’s—a bold, unwavering confession of her feelings, perhaps with a symbolic gift to accompany her words. That would have been the most proper way. Yet had she waited a second longer, she knew she would have never managed to say anything at all, whether by starlight or fairy lights.

For a minute, searching those blue eyes flicking between hers, Hecate could not tell if Julie was upset or shocked or—dare she think it—pleased to hear what Hecate had said. She felt a chilling sensation seep down to her feet—that she had made some sort of mistake and that their relationship would never survive such a blunder. Moreover, this could not be the way that Julie had imagined being told such an important thing—in her own kitchen, sticky pastry crumbs on her fingers, and with Hecate in a ridiculous outfit. It only confirmed it—she was not good enough for Julie—she was merely a teacher at the school that her daughter attended. Perhaps Julie too had considered Hecate’s position and concluded that it would be better if they kept this relationship where it was, particularly for the sake of Mildred.

Julie’s lips quivered slightly. Hecate waited, dreading her response, but a single glimmer of hope reposed in her chest.

“I love you too,” Julie murmured, her eyes now welling up.

The sight of Julie’s tears moved Hecate closer. Before she could stop herself, her right hand was in Julie’s beautiful curls—her left around her waist—and she held Julie to her, feeling their warmth merge together.

“I apologise— I am sure there was a better time to tell you—”

“Don’t you apologise for anything, Hecate Hardbroom,” Julie whispered, breaking away from the embrace long enough to sink into the deep kiss that Hecate had waiting for her. The precious jewels of Julie’s tears brushed against Hecate’s face, and she dared not wipe them away.

In the aftermath of their confession, they held hands, both looking silently over the lounge while a soothing voice sang, “ _Merry Christmas, darling._ ”. Hecate made a subtle gesture and the clutter of empty boxes on the coffee table and sofa disappeared. The room’s understated homeliness shone through—quiet and peaceful, even with the relative chaos of the tree—and Hecate felt at last relaxed.

Julie poked the red nose of the jumper on Hecate’s stomach. Hecate gave a small squeak of surprise.

“What possessed you to do that?” Hecate said in mock indignance.

Julie gave her a cheeky grin. “You just said you loved me to get out of trying one of my mince pies, didn’t you?” 

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Hecate retorted, a wry smile curling her lips.

Julie’s mouth hung open in shock. Hecate had to dodge a second poke to the stomach. “You wicked witch!”

Hecate felt a giggle burst out of her. She hadn’t _giggled_ in living memory, but hardly had time to feel self-conscious before Julie thrust the plate of mince pies at her.

“Prove you love me by eating one of these, then.” Julie’s tone was serious, but her face told Hecate that the teasing had not caused any offence.

Hecate carefully took one of the slightly sticky mince pies between her long fingers. Because the pastry was so short, it practically melted in her mouth as she bit into it—light and buttery around a delightfully spiced fruit filling.

“In all honesty, I cannot say that this is anything but delicious,” Hecate professed, once she had finished her mouthful.

“I s’pose I’ll let you off,” Julie said, unable to keep the bliss from her face. Hecate gazed into her eyes, thinking that there was no possible way that she could love this woman any less.


End file.
